


Cherry Cola

by seolarss



Category: NCT (Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: Arcades, Bisexuality, Boys Kissing, Canon Non-Binary Character, Drag Queens, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Gen, Humor, Icees, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta, Pac-Man - Freeform, Pride Parades, Recreational Drug Use, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Humor, Sexuality Crisis, Skating, So much kissing, johnny yuta mark and dejun are the stoner foursome, minor liu yang yang/original character, use of slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26700466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seolarss/pseuds/seolarss
Summary: “You could be in the ‘95 Guiness Book of World Records. For most emotionally attached to a bunch of yellow pixels.”When Dejun spots him outside of the station and notices the stained clothes and deep scowl on Guanheng’s face, his own face falls. He doesn’t say it, but Guanheng thinks he looks cool, sucking on a lollipop and rolling his skateboard under his foot.
Relationships: Wong Kun Hang | Hendery/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun
Comments: 30
Kudos: 151





	Cherry Cola

**Author's Note:**

> i would like to preface this by saying that i do mention Michael Jackon's sexual assault toward minors in this story. it is very brief, but it could still be enough to trigger someone. tread lightly, and if you don't want to read it, skip from the moment Guanheng's sister mentions the music video to the break in the story before the next scene. you can read about his 1993 case [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1993_child_sexual_abuse_accusations_against_Michael_Jackson#Lawsuit)
> 
> i also want to make a note that i did not write guanheng or yangyang as "stupid", "unintelligent", or as "idiots". keep in mind that they are still teenagers, so they are silly and they like to be carefree. guanheng is not stupid for not understanding sexuality--either his friends or his own. he is confused and scared. it may be 2020 when you're reading this, and you may have extensive knowledge of sexuality, but the STORY is set in 1995. sexuality was not something that people simply knew about. yangyang is clumsy and he can make rash decisions, but he's ultimately the one who helps guanheng feel comfortable and cared for when he realises he doesn't fit into the box of a heteronormative teenager. please, don't call my characters stupid, even if it's in a "loving" way. i did not write them that way, because that is not what they are. 
> 
> i did a lot of research for this fic as well! if you're interested, i'm going to link the articles and stuff below! but for now, here is my [story playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0OgGF7uMFmScKbWGbImkIb?si=oaIt62OARYGmVDJx3NxxXw) if you want to vibe out while reading. enjoy !!
> 
> [gender symbols](https://nonbinary.wiki/w/index.php?title=Gender_symbols&mobileaction=toggle_view_mobile)  
> [tucking safely](https://www.healthline.com/health/transgender/tucking#how-to-tuck)  
> [gender identity](https://www.verywellmind.com/what-does-it-mean-to-be-non-binary-or-have-non-binary-gender-4172702)  
> [history of the term](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Non-binary_gender#:~:text=The%20term%20genderqueer%20came%20into,anyone%20who%20is%20gender%20nonconforming.)

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” Guanheng knocks his head against the handrail when the train lurches and he winces. “What if it’s just not meant to be?”

“Dude, you’re acting like you just lost the love of your life or something,” Yangyang says, chewing on the straw of his drink. “It’s just Pac-Man.”

It is _not_ just Pac-Man, Guanheng thinks bitterly as the train descends and his view of the city is blocked by crowded apartment buildings. There’s someone smoking a joint on the platform at Rockwell and the operator makes an aggressive reminder over the speakers that smoking is not allowed on the train. Guanheng can’t help but roll his eyes. No one listens to that rule, anyway. 

“Plus, aren’t you like, sixteen? It’s unavoidable that there’s gonna be someone more experienced at an arcade game than you.”

“Yangyang, I’m literally a year older than you. And you’re eighteen.” Yangyang shrugs and slurps obnoxiously at his drink. “And that just doesn’t make sense! No one’s played Pac-Man since Space Invaders was added like, four years ago. My family’s been the only ones to play it.”

“I think you have a god complex.”

“I think you don’t know what that means,” Guanheng sneers. “Aren’t you getting off? I don’t want your mom calling me because you aren’t home.”

Yangyang shakes his head. “Nah, I wanna get one of those conchas from the bakery by the laundromat.”

The train rolls to a stop at Kimball and Guanheng gets shoulder checked as a crowd steps onto the platform. “That just means you’re coming to my house. I’d prefer it if you were honest with me.”

“I do really want to go to the bakery, though!” Yangyang insists, tossing his cup into a trashcan. “You know the bakery by my house doesn’t make them as well as Markello’s.”

Guanheng rolls his eyes. “Fine. But we aren’t done talking about what happened at the arcade.”

“Aren’t we? You’re just gonna go back tomorrow after work and see if that person kicked your ass again.”

Guanheng doesn’t say anything as they push out of the station. The air is humid and he can feel his lungs quiver under the pressure. A man walks by with his ice cream cart, flicking his fingers against the bells on the handle. Guanheng needs to pull Yangyang away by his collar and he whines, pouting up at him.

“We don’t get paid until Friday and we both know you’re shit at saving your money. Get your stupid conchas and shut up. You always whine when the ice cream doesn’t look like Spongebob, anyway.”

Yangyang huffs and crosses the street, paying no mind to the cars that are forced to stop for him despite their green light. Guangheng chases after him, shouting apologies as drivers stick their middle fingers out at the two of them. 

“One of these days, a car isn’t gonna stop.”

“Then I’ll sue!” Yangyang grins. 

“Bro, you’d be dead. Plus, it’d have been your fault that you got run over.”

“They can’t prove that. Isn’t it like, always the pedestrian’s right of way, or something?”

Guangheng feels himself grimace. “God, I hope you never learn to drive. You know you’re not gonna believe in that rule once you’re behind the wheel.”

Yangyang snickers but doesn’t say anything else, turning to cut through the bank courtyard. Guanheng walks a few steps behind and lets his fingers glide against the branches of the bushes on either side of him, hissing when a particularly pointy twig sticks under his fingernail. He puts his hands in his pockets and scratches up the lint tucked into the seams. 

His mind keeps trailing back to the arcade. Who in Chicago is playing that game other than him? Even the rest of his family had given up when Guanheng beat all of their high scores when he was eleven. Is it some kind of sick prank? Has Crystal been sneaking behind his back?

But the name sticks out so clearly. JUN. What could it possibly stand for if it _is_ Crystal? He runs through silly acronyms for a moment, but none of them seem to make any sense. Yangyang tugs him into Markello’s by his hood, breaking his train of thought.

“Dude, you’ve gotta take your mind off of that game for a minute,” he says, clicking a pair of tongs in his face. “I know you like to believe you’re some Pac-Man prodigy or whatever, but isn’t the highest recorded score like… a billion?”

“That’s not possible, actually,” Guanheng begins as he pulls a churro from the case. “The highest possible score in the game is three million, three hundred thirty-three thousand, three hundred and sixty. No one’s achieved that yet. Plus, there are different high scores depending on which game you’re referring to. For example, the Pac-Man Champion Edition–”

“Bro.” Yangyang slides a few bills to the man at the counter. “You’re fucking insane or something. You should try to find a couple new hobbies.”

“I have other hobbies.” He takes a bite from his churro. “He’s paying for this, by the way.”

“Dick,” he mutters, forking over another dollar. “What other hobbies could you possibly have?”

“That’s literally the stupidest question I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth. I play multiple instruments. I’ve been dancing since I was five.”

He opens the door and Yangyang ducks under his arm, shouting a, ‘Thank you!’ through a mouthful of sweet bread. “Are those hobbies or chores?”

“They’re hobbies!” Guanheng insists. “I asked my parents for a drum set for my birthday.”

“Which they aren’t going to do, by the way.” Yangyang kicks a rock into someone’s garage door. “You live in an apartment, I’m sure everyone is already annoyed with you playing piano in the middle of the night.”

“Steve is literally in a jazz band,” he mutters. “Not to mention, he walks like he’s got twenty pound weights attached to his ankles.” 

“Don’t let him hear you say that.” Yangyang struggles with the gate for a moment. When he finally manages to wrench it open, his pastry falls from his mouth and onto the ground, bouncing by Guanheng’s foot. “Man, my fucking _concha_.”

“Have the rest of my churro.” 

“Bro, I love you.” They walk through the yard and up the stairs and Yangyang flings open the screen door. Guanheng watches the mesh flutter in the wind and makes a mental note to staple it back down. “Hello!” Yangyang calls into the kitchen.

_“Wong Guanheng, I’ve just gotten a call from his mother telling me he needs to come home now! She didn’t give him permission to go anywhere but the arcade!”_

“She’s talking about me, isn’t she?” He asks, peeking in the fridge. “She always speaks Cantonese when she’s talking about me.”

“Yeah,” Hendery laughs. “Your mom called. She wants you home.”

Yangyang groans and slams the door of the fridge. “I _just_ got here. Also, I’m eighteen, why do I still need my mom’s permission to go everywhere?” He trudges down the hall and mumbles a goodbye to Guanheng’s mother and sister before turning back to him. “Arcade tomorrow after work to look for your rival, yeah?”

Guangheng nods and bids farewell. Crystal is giving him a strange look from the couch as she snacks from a bowl of cheese balls. On the other end of the couch is their mother, who hums quietly to herself as she threads a needle. Guanheng takes a seat between the two and steals a handful of the snack, gesturing to the TV.

“What’re you waiting for?”

“MJ and Janet are releasing the ‘Scream’ music video in like, two minutes.” Crystal mutes the commercials. “You have a rival?”

Guanheng rolls his eyes. “There isn’t a chance you’ve gone to the arcade and beat my Pac-Man score just to fuck with me, is there?”

“Language!” His mother hisses and Crystal chortles.

“Why would I do that? You know we all gave up on that game a long time ago.” She slows her chewing, squinting at him. “Someone beat your score? That’s interesting.”

“It’s not interesting!” He groans, knocking his head against the wall. “It’s _tragic._ I’m PMG, dude. Pac-Man God.”

“Wow, I literally hate you so much. Your score is less than a hundred thousand, is it not? It’s only interesting because I thought no one cared about the game anymore, not because I think you’re some whiz.”

“You could be a little nicer about that.”

“I will not,” she harrumphs, unmuting the TV. “You could be in the _‘95 Guiness Book of World Records._ For most emotionally attached to a bunch of yellow pixels.”

Guanheng opens his mouth to refute, but Crystal shushes him and leans forward in her seat, eyes wide as saucers. He watches for a moment, his face twisted in a combination of confusion and distaste.

“This is like, _Star Trek_ meets _The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,_ but with a fag pedo and his little sister.”

“Shut the fuck up, G,” Crystal bites. “The charges were dropped and you know it.”

“Yeah, cause he paid the family to stop talking about it.”

“If you’re going to keep talking, get out of here.” Cheesy fingers are rubbed into his hair and he protests loudly, shooting up from the couch. “Let me enjoy my music in peace.”

“Think about why it makes you so upset when you’re done schlicking it, yeah?” Guangheng calls as he makes his way into the bathroom.

He pulls his shirt over his head and grumbles to himself. As he fiddles with the heat setting in the shower, he finds shapes in the tile floor. He burns himself and knocks his fingers against the counter when he recoils, hissing. Crystal is squealing in the living room and he rolls his eyes as he steps under the water. 

“She can go goofy for a pedophile, but god forbid I like an arcade game a little more than normal,” he mutters, squirting shampoo into the palm of his hand. “It’s not fair.”

\---

“Yo,” Yangyang greets the moment Guanheng steps outside. “I got you an oreja.”

Guangheng swipes the pastry and glares. “Dude, just go to the bakery by your house. You’ve spent an unnecessary amount of money already and it’s only eleven.”

Yangyang rolls his eyes. “A thank you would be nice, you know.”

“Whatever. Let’s just hurry up and get work over with. I need to see who this JUN guy is.”

They walk to the train in relative silence and Guanheng savours the minutes of quiet as he chews through his pastry. He drops a few crumbs onto the sidewalk and watches a plague of pigeons flock to the area, cooing excitedly. The sun is already beating down and Guanheng can feel his shirt sticking to the small of his back uncomfortably as they walk through the stalls in the station. On the train, Yangyang slumps down at a window seat and presses his face against the glass, sighing as the air conditioner blows at his neck. Guanheng sits beside him wordlessly, reaching over to feel the cool air on his hands. 

“Summer hasn’t even started, what the hell,” Yangyang complains as the train lurches into motion. “It’s literally the first of June, the universe could give us at least a couple more chilly days.”

“Bro, we live in Chicago.” Guanheng sits back and closes his eyes. “All we’re gonna get from today on is thunderstorms and tornado warnings.”

“At least we’ve got Lady Michigan.”

“Don’t call our sewer lake Lady Michigan.”

Yangyang parrots him with a sour face and stretches his arms above his head. “We get off at six today? What if that Pac-Man challenger is at the arcade while we’re still working?”

“Then I’ll ask Maria if she noticed anyone playing, what he looks like, et cetera.”

“You’re such a creep.”

“Whatever.” Guanheng stands as the train leaves Rockwell. “The arcade is so close to The Davis, what if we’ve been seeing him all the time and we have no idea?”

“The chances of that happening in this universe are so small, bro,” Yangyang sighs. “That’s Disney fate, not Wong Guanheng fate.”

_This is Western. Doors open on the right at Western._

They push through the crowd of people stepping onto the train as they get off and Yangyang keeps a hand curled tightly around the sleeve of Guanheng’s shirt. He can already feel himself begin to sweat as they step onto the escalator. There's a man curled up just outside of the back entrance of the station, his chin knocking against his chest as he dozes in the sun. Beside him, pigeons putter around and pick at the ground.

It's easily thirty degrees cooler inside the theatre and Guanheng is already peeling his shirt off as they make their way into the staff room to change.

"I hate it here," Yangyang complains as he swipes deodorant under his arms. "Why did my parents have to move here, of all places? They could've gone somewhere a bit nicer, like Oregon."

"Doesn't Oregon get, like, totally burned to the ground every summer?" Guanheng pulls his polo over his head. "They have too many trees or something."

"I thought it was global warming."

"Whatever."

They slip out of the back room, nodding at passing moviegoers as they make their way up to the front. Yangyang slams his hands on the glass case of the counter and the girl working the popcorn machine nearly jumps out of her skin.

" _Jesus,_ Yangyang! One of these days you're gonna break this case and you'll have to pay for the replacement."

Yangyang blows a raspberry. "As if. I know my own strength, Heather. Now, get outta here. It's mine and G's turn to man the station."

Heather rolls her eyes. "No offense, but I hope I never have to work the counter with you."

"Ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad," Yangyang coos, closing his eyes and puckering his lips. "Unfortunately for you, I have a job to get done and I won't let any girl distract me. Even if she's pretty."

Heather scoffs, but Guanheng doesn't miss the way her cheeks begin to glow pink. "Hey guys. I love third wheeling, but we do actually have work to do. The next showing of _Braveheart_ is in twenty."

"Good luck, you two." Heather scoops herself a bag of popcorn. "We've been getting gaggles of girls coming in to see Mel Gibson naked for the past two weeks."

She leaves and Guanheng fills a flimsy plastic cup with ice water, chugging it down before the next crowd comes through the door. Yangyang refills the ICEE machines and fixes himself a Cherry Cola one, making Guanheng wrinkle his nose in disgust.

"Of all the choices, you really think that's the best flavour you could have?" He shudders. "There must be something wrong with you."

"It's not against the law to have opinions, G," he gurgles over a mouthful of sugar ice. "Someone's coming in."

One of the doors is pulled open and a wave of hot air blasts the two of them in the face. Guanheng settles behind the register, picking at his cuticles and mentally preparing himself for the obnoxious teenage girl.

"Hey, could I get an order of nachos with the little peppers?"

It's certainly not the voice Guanheng had been expecting. When his eyes finally focus on the person in front of him, he's pleasantly surprised to find a boy around his age. His bangs fall over his eyes and he shakes his head to move them out of the way, smiling up at Guanheng. There's a metal loop in his nose and several more in his ears. The lock attached to the chain around his neck makes Guanheng gulp.

"Yeah, of course. Can I get you anything else?"

"Umm." The boy squints up at the menu. "Sorry, I'm not wearing my contacts today. Ooh! Could I get a medium Cherry Cola ICEE?"

Guanheng has to stop himself from visibly sagging. "Totally. Your total is ten forty."

"Did I hear Cherry Cola ICEE?" Yangyang appears, knocking into Guanheng as he places the nacho tray onto the counter. "Whoa, dude, sick nail polish!"

"Oh, thanks!" The boy slides a twenty across the counter with a bright smile. "I just got it the other day, I really like the colour."

"I wish I could paint my nails," Yangyang mumbles. "My mom would probably kill me, though. So, what movie are you seeing? _The Man Who Wouldn't Die_ has been pretty popular."

"No, actually." His cheeks go pink. "I'm here to see _Braveheart_. I have kind of a huge crush on Mel Gibson."

"Huh." Yangyang tongues his cheek as he hands him his ICEE. "Alright, man. I can respect that. You enjoy the movie."

"Thanks," he says. He meets Guanheng's eyes. "Go ahead and keep the change."

Guanheng nods dumbly, his tongue lying dead in his mouth while his brain says something cool and casual to seem effortlessly collected. Yangyang whistles as he wipes popcorn butter off the counter and Guanheng watches the boy head down the hall, squinting eyes searching for the right place.

"Uh," he speaks up without thinking, and the boy's head whips toward him. " _Braveheart_ is the second hall and to the right."

The boy smiles in thanks and disappears from sight. Yangyang waggles his eyebrows at Guanheng. "Even cute grunge boys like Mel Gibson and Cherry Cola, G."

"Eat my pants, virgin."

\---

"Dude, hurry up! We've gotta get to the arcade _ASAP_!"

"Don't get your panties in a twist, missy," Yangyang hums as he stuffs his shirt into his locker. "The arcade is literally a minute walk from here."

Guanheng huffs and chews on his lip as he watches Yangyang take his time. He looks down at his watch and huffs again, louder. Yangyang shoots him a glare and bends over to retie his shoe.

"Holy shit, I'm leaving without you."

Yangyang yells after him as he stomps out of the staff room and toward the exit. He waves goodbye to Michael behind the counter and to Kyle at the ticket booth before pushing outside, nearly gasping at the intensity of the heat. Yangyang stumbles outside behind him, grumbling about how thirty seconds to tie his shoes wouldn't ruin their plans. Guanheng makes a point of ignoring him completely, turning west toward the arcade.

"Why are you so anal about this, man?" Yangyang asks as he skips into place beside Guanheng. "I know I've said it before, but it _is_ just a game."

"I don't know," he mutters. "I'm used to being the best at it, I don't like that someone is trying to take it from me."

"Just be the best at something else."

"It's not that simple. Maybe I'm the best dancer in Chicago, or the best piano player under the age of twenty, but there are no numbers on a screen that show it. It's easier to pay a couple bucks to show I'm good than it is to go to a million competitions to show I'm a mediocre dancer or something."

"I guess I get it," Yangyang hums. "But also, why not just make friends with this mystery competitor? They could be super cool."

"Nah." Guanheng shakes his head. "It's probably some overweight, balding man in his thirties who swallows hotdogs whole."

"Harsh, G," Yangyang sighs as he pulls the door to the arcade open, letting Guanheng step inside. "I bet it's just a kid."

Guanheng ignores him and marches right up the counter, ringing the bell. A woman pokes her head out from the back, her eyes suspicious before he notices him and smiles. She steps to the front and leans her hands against the glass.

"Hey there, mister. Are you finally going to skate today?"

"Hi Maria. No, I am not going to skate today, and I probably never will." Guanheng scans the area, his eyes locking on the Pac-Man machine. "Has anyone played today?"

Maria chuckles and pulls the rag off her shoulder, wiping the counter down. "No one has played since you came in yesterday and had a breakdown in front of the machine, no." Her gaze shifts to Yangyang. "Why, did someone take the top spot or something?"

"I took it back," Guanheng bites.

"Yes, Maria, that's exactly what happened," Yangyang moans. "He hasn't shut up about it since! By the way, can I get a Cherry Cola ICEE, please?"

"You're disgusting," Guanheng mutters.

Yangyang pulls out a couple bills and hands them over. "He's feeling extra bitter because a pretty boy has the same taste as me."

"Shut the fuck up, you're acting like I'm some fag or something." Maria gives him a look as she counts out the change. "Whatever, I'm gonna sit down."

He stalks away and finds an empty table by the arcade area, slumping in his seat and giving the area another once-over. There are couples holding hands as they circle the skating rink and he rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. In the game area there are couples racing and playing shooting games, giggling amongst themselves like the giddy teenagers they are. It makes Guanheng sick. Has he always been surrounded by couples, and he's simply never noticed? Two boys near the bathrooms swap spit and Guanheng feels his entire body lock up. He looks away quickly and sees Yangyang making his way over.

"You done pouting, my friend?" He asks as he sips at his drink. "We've got a Pac-Man nerd to look out for."

"I was never pouting," Guanheng says, shifting in his seat. His eyes find their way back to the boys by the bathroom. "Didn't you drink one of those at work? I don't understand how your teeth haven't fallen out already."

"I'm still young," Yangyang hums. "My teeth can't fall out yet."

"That's not how that works."

"Shut up."

Guanheng sighs heavily. "Sometimes, I wish you never graduated early. You'd be at home doing your math homework and I'd have a few hours of peace and quiet to myself." Without notice, Yangyang blows a strawful of ICEE across the table and Guanheng yelps, jumping out of his seat and shaking ice out of his hair. "Dude, what the fuck?"

Yangyang shrugs and tosses a few napkins at him. "You were acting like a dick. I'm not going to let you be mean to me and get away with it."

"Just say I'm being a dick, then. Jesus." Guanheng rubs the napkins into his hair with a scowl. "You don't have to resort to violence."

"If I don’t do anything but give you a slap on the wrist, you're just gonna keep doing it."

"Fine, fine. I'm sorry, okay?"

"I don't know what's going on with you, G, but you can't go taking it out on me." His tone is steady and cool and it makes Guanheng uncomfortable. "I'm your best friend and I'm trying to be gracious with you, but you're throwing tantrums over a video game."

“It wasn’t a tantrum.” Yangyang gives him a look over his drink and Guanheng slumps back into the booth. “Okay, I’ll admit I was a little sensitive. But you can’t go around calling people gay.”

“First of all, I never said you were gay,” Yangyang interjects. “There’s nothing wrong with finding a pretty boy pretty, alright? And there’s nothing wrong with being gay. It’s nineteen ninety- _five_.”

“I never said there was anything wrong with being gay! But saying that I find a boy pretty _implies_ something, dude.”

“It implies that you have _eyes_ and you can _see_.” Yangyang rolls his eyes. “You still sound like kind of an asshole right now, you know. I don’t want to have this conversation anymore.”

“What, are you gay or something?”

Yangyang shakes his head, but Guanheng watches his cheeks flush. “I’m not gay, but I guess you could call me bisexual.”

“What is that?”

“Dude, are you dumb?” Yangyang laughs, hoping to shake off any nerves still clinging to him. “I like more than one gender.”

“So you like guys and girls?” Guanheng leans forward, eyes squinting suspiciously. “Have you even kissed a girl?”

“No, I don’t like guys.”

“ _What?_ ”

Yangyang sighs. “I discovered this thing recently. It’s called nonbinary. The word used to just have something to do with computers, but apparently some dude figured it worked for people too, just earlier this year. I met someone on the train a couple months ago. I thought they were a girl, but when I got around to talking to them, they told me they didn’t feel like a boy _or_ a girl.”

“I’m confused.” Guanheng shakes his head. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“It’s _neither,_ man, that’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Yangyang slurps his ICEE noisily. “They want to be referred to as they or them. But I really like them, you know? They’re super funny and sweet.” He blushes. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to call them pretty or what, but they’re… I don’t know.”

“Dude,” Guanheng breathes, leaning back. “You’re goofy. I thought you liked Heather! She’s tripping over you!”

“I know, I know!” Yangyang goes red and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I liked her at first, but then I met Charlie and–”

“Listen, I don’t care about your love triangle,” Guanheng huffs. “I still don’t know what you mean about that train person, but if you like them more than Heather, you’ve gotta break the news to her, man. You’re leading her on.”

“I know, I will,” Yangyang sighs. He swirls the straw in his cup and looks out toward the skating rink. “You could be bisexual, too. Maybe with guys and girls, though.” He slurps. “Then again, I think the only chick I’ve ever seen you look at with interest is that one girl in _Snake’s Revenge_.”

“Jennifer’s hot, you can’t judge me for that.”

“Alright, alright.” Yangyang’s eyes scan over the arcade before going wide. “No fucking way.”

Guanheng freezes. “He’s here, isn’t he? What’s he look like? I’m too scared to look.”

“Dude, you’re not gonna believe this,” Yangyang starts laughing into his cup. “Oh my god, this is _golden._ ”

“Yangyang, tell me!”

“It’s the pretty boy from the theatre.”

All tension drains from Guanheng’s body and he sags. “You’re kidding.” He cranes his neck and standing in front of the Pac-Man machine is, in fact, the pretty boy from the theatre. “It might not be him. He could be just playing for shits and giggles.”

“Let’s go talk to him, then!” Yangyang stands.

“No!” Guanheng catches his wrist, shaking his head. “I can’t talk to him again!”

“Why not? Do you have a crush on him or something?” Yangyang teases, jutting his bottom lip out in a pout.

“I don’t fucking know, maybe! You’re putting all these weird ideas in my head!”

“So what, you’re just gonna give up on your high score because a pretty boy might be better at Pac-Man than you?”

Guanheng huffs. “No. But what if he’s not the one and I just make a fool of myself?”

Yangyang rolls his eyes. “You’re being annoying. Hey, Nail Polish!” He shakes his arm free from Guanheng’s grasp and walks toward the arcade, where the boy looks up from the game with wide eyes.

“Yangyang! Oh my–” He shoots up from his seat and rushes after Yangyang, feeling his palms grow sweaty.

“Oh, you’re the ones who work at The Davis, right?” The boy smiles up at Guanheng. “Nice to see you again.”

“You play Pac-Man?” Yangyang presses, leaning over to look at the screen.

“Oh, yeah, I do,” he says, eyebrows furrowing. “I’m trying to beat the high score.”

“I see,” Yangyang drawls, shooting Guanheng a look. “What are you at now?”

The boy’s cheeks tint pink and he rubs at the back of his neck with a shy smile. “Well, I actually just beat it yesterday, but the guy I topped must’ve come back and taken it over again.”

Guanheng feels his face go numb as Yangyang throws his head back and laughs. The boy in front of him looks terribly confused as his gaze shifts between the two of them. Gathering the last of his pride, Guanheng takes a step closer and gestures to the screen.

“That would be me, actually.” Yangyang cackles louder. 

The boy’s eyes light up. “Oh, no shit! That’s crazy! You must be some Pac-Man whiz or something.”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Yangyang interrupts. “Don’t stroke his ego anymore. He thinks he’s the greatest player out there and just about lost all sanity when he saw you at the top.”

He laughs up at Guanheng. “Oh, I’m sorry. I guess you could say I’m a bit competitive, myself.” 

“What does JUN stand for?” Yangyang blurts. “Giant Ultra Nerd?”

“Shut the fuck up, Yangyang,” Guanheng hisses. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to be funny or if you’re just stupid.”

The boy laughs again, shifting on his feet. “It’s just Jun. My name is Dejun.” He squints at the screen. “What does...PMG stand for?”

Guanheng laughs nervously. “Well, actually–”

“It stands for Pac-Man God.”

Dejun hides his amusement behind his face as Guanheng attempts to tackle Yangyang to the ground. “He’s lying, don’t listen to him.”

“I’m not lying! Stop being a sissy!”

“I’m not judging you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Dejun says, his hand resting on Guanheng’s arm. “It’s kind of endearing, I think.”

Yangyang giggles from his place on the ground. “You know, I just remembered my mom wanted me home early today.” Guanheng nearly chokes him right then and there. “Gotta help her with dinner and stuff.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Dejun smiles down at him. “It was nice to see you again. Yangyang, was it?”

He nods. “Yep! And that’s Guanheng. He’ll keep you company, his house is full of girls so I doubt he’d want to go home.” Before Guanheng can threaten his safety anymore, he jumps back and raises his hand in farewell. “I’ll be off! Have fun, you two.”

Guanheng stands perfectly still, training his eyes on the dirty carpet below them as Yangyang leaves the two of them alone. Dejun bends down and into his line of sight, a smile smile playing on his lips. The lock around his neck knocks against his collarbone and Guanheng bites the inside of his cheek until he can taste blood. 

“So, you must hate me or something, huh?”

“What? That’s not true, why would I hate you?” Guanheng straightens and looks directly at Dejun with a frown.

“Well, I’m your competition, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but I’m not worried about that,” he says with a shrug, looking at the game screen. “Didn’t you say you aren’t wearing your contacts today? How are you meant to beat me when you can hardly see?”

Dejun crosses his arms over his chest. He isn’t much shorter than Guanheng, but he is much thinner. His fingers tap against his arms and Guanheng counts six rings on just one hand. His bangs have been pushed out of his eyes and a new piercing makes itself known, two small studs in his eyebrow, connected by a thin bar. The eyebrow quirks and Guanheng realises half a second too late that he’s been staring. He feels his cheeks grow warm and he shakes his head, returning his gaze to the entirety of Dejun’s face.

“Sorry, did you say something?”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re buying me an ICEE for that one. Cherry Cola.” He smiles when Guanheng grimaces. “I said, are you challenging me?”

“Maybe I am,” Guanheng fingers through the bills in his wallet and pulls out a five, extending it toward him. “Here. Go get your gross ICEE.”

Dejun shakes his head and takes a step back. “Nuh uh. I have a high score to beat. You go get my drink while I work on kicking your ass.”

“I think you might be worse than Yangyang,” Guanheng grumbles, but he hides the smile growing on his face by turning and looking toward the skating rink. “Alright, fine. I’ll get you your stupid drink. But if you can’t beat my high score, then you can never play this game again.”

“That’s a little unfair, you got over a thousand points more,” he mumbles, running his fingers over the joystick. “And if I win?”

“What?”

“If I beat your high score, what do I get?”

Guanheng’s eyes dart around in poorly masked panic. “Um, I don’t know?”

“How about this,” Dejun takes two steps forward and Guanheng takes one step back. “If I win, you let me keep playing the game, _and,_ ” he gestures to the rink, “you go skating with me.”

Guanheng blinks. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Dejun smiles up at him. “Maybe we could even call it a date?”

“Oh.” Guanheng feels his cheeks go pink. Dejun is looking at him with a practiced expression, but the fiddling of his fingers by his waist give away what his face won’t. “Um, sorry, I don’t really–”

Dejun’s eyes go wide. “Holy shit, no, _I’m_ sorry. I totally read you wrong.” He bites his lip and looks away, his own cheeks beginning to glow. “Even so, we can just skate as friends, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, of course, that still sounds like fun.” Guanheng is digging his nails into his palms and he’s fairly certain he’s torn the bill in his hand. “I’ll just…”

“Yep,” Dejun laughs and scratches at the back of his head. “I’ll see if I can take back this high score.”

Guanheng turns on his heel and rushes toward the counter, swearing under his breath. Maria’s son is at the counter now, standing on a stepping stool so he can reach the register. He sees Guanheng and smiles brightly, waving.

“Hey little man, where’s your momma?”

“Some man came and momma got mad at him. They’re in there.” He turns to point at the door to the back room and nearly falls off his stool. 

Guanheng has to stop himself from reaching out for him. He sighs when he regains his balance. “Okay. Do you think you can get me a Cherry Cola ICEE, please?”

“You hate those, Gwen!”

He laughs. “It’s Guanheng, Antonio. Guan. Heng. And the drink isn’t for me.”

Antonio takes the five dollar bill and shoves it in the register. “I don’t know how much it is.”

Guanheng shakes his head. “That’s more than enough, kiddo. Keep the change, yeah?”

“‘Kay!”

He hops off the stool and scurries out of sight to the ICEE machine. Guanheng turns and leans back against the counter, searching for Dejun. As if he’s sensed him, his head pokes out from behind the Pac-Man machine and they meet eyes. Guanheng smiles shyly but looks away quickly, already feeling his palms begin to sweat at the memory of their encounter. A crash and a cry sounds from where Antonio had disappeared to and Guanheng is quick to squeeze behind the counter to inspect the damage. Antonio is holding his knee as fat tears slide down his cheeks. There’s sugar ice and water puddled all around him and soaking through his clothes. Guanheng scoops him up quickly, bouncing him on his hip and looking at the scrape on his knee.

“What happened, my dude?” He asks as he rubs his thumb gently over the wound. It isn’t bleeding, but his skin is bright red and peeling back. Guanheng can feel the way it must burn. “Was it slippery back here already?”

Antonio nods his head and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “I slipped and spilled and now I’m all wet.”

“Hey, is everything alright back there?” Dejun’s voice calls from the counter. “I heard someone crying and you disappeared on me.”

Guanheng moves to the front, still bouncing Antonio as he moves. He smiles sheepishly at Dejun. “Sorry, he took a fall while making your drink.”

“Oh, poor guy,” he frowns at Antonio. “I’m sorry I asked for it, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice is quiet and he presses into Guanheng’s chest, suddenly shy.

The door to the back room swings open and Maria storms out, her eyes wide as she speaks to Antonio in frantic Spanish. His eyes well with tears again and Guanheng presses his head into his shoulder, looking at the woman.

“Maria, please don’t be angry with him.”

“What the hell were you thinking, Tony?” She shrieks in English. “You know better than this! And now there’s a huge goddamn mess I need to clean up all by myself!”

“All due respect, Maria, but you left a six year old in charge of your register and your kitchen while you fucked around in the back room,” Guanheng glares and Maria’s eyes go wide. “It doesn’t matter if you showed him how to do it. He’s six.”

“Guanheng!” Dejun gasps, gaping between the two of them. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry–”

“Huang Guanheng, you are very lucky I have known you since you were just up to my knee,” Maria huffs, wiping at her forehead. “You would be banned from this rink if that weren’t the case.” She sighs. “But you’re right. It was a bad parenting moment for me, I will admit that. Tony, I’m sorry, come here.”

Guanheng hands him over, keeping a stern look on his face. “Seriously, Maria. Be nice to him, please. Make sure this scrape doesn’t get infected. Do you have Neosporin?”

“ _Ay, dios mío, chico!_ Stop acting like you’re the parent here, alright? I will check him out right after I get you what you need. What were you buying?”

“We’re okay, don’t worry about it,” Dejun says, shaking his hands out in front of him. “You seem to have enough on your plate already.”

“Well, let me give you your money back, Guanheng.” He shakes his head. “No? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” He smiles. “Maybe buy him a Spiderman ice cream from a Paletero on your way home with that money.”

Maria rolls her eyes. “Fine. Leave.”

Guanheng steps out from behind the counter and begins making his way back to the Pac-Man machine with Dejun. “Sorry again. Are you sure you don’t want that ICEE?”

“It’s really okay,” Dejun assures with a smile. “You’re really good with kids, it was cute to see.” Guanheng feels himself blush for what feels like the hundredth time today. “Plus, you can buy me an ICEE when we come back tomorrow.”

“What? Why?”

“We’re coming back to skate, remember? Or have you already forgotten?”

Guanheng shakes his head. “No. You’re giving me shit right now. I was gone for like, three minutes. There is literally no way you could have gotten to seventy-seven thousand in that time.”

“Oh, but I did. In fact…” They stop in front of the screen and Guanheng has to will his mouth to stay shut. PMG is in the top with seventy-seven thousand, forty-three. But JUN rests at the top, a clean eighty-four thousand glowing brightly onto their skin. “I guess you could call me a Pac-Man whiz, or something.”

“What the fuck,” Guanheng whispers as he stares at the number. “How did you do that? Do I have to stop–”

“No, you can still play as much as you want.” Dejun knocks their shoulders together and laughs. “Just know, whatever score you manage to get, I’ll pass it in a quarter of the time.”

That hurts Guanheng’s ego a great deal. He laughs awkwardly and takes a step back, tearing his eyes from the screen. He forces himself to remember that it is _just a game,_ and shakes his head when he hears it in Yangyang’s voice. But it really is just that: a game. There are plenty more things Guanheng is good at. And Dejun is just playing around with him. He isn’t intentionally aiming at his pride every time he opens his mouth. Maybe he’s flirting. He shakes his head again. Not the right time to think about that.

“Why aren’t we just going to skate today, though?”

“Cause you’ll probably try to avoid me forever if we do it today. Waiting forces you to see me again.” Guanheng almost swears out loud when Dejun speaks, smiling almost wickedly up at him. 

“Alright, fine.” Guanheng is itching to leave. “What time should I come?”

“How about you give me your number? We can hash out plans later tonight.”

He swallows thickly. While Dejun waits, his hand comes up to scratch at his neck. His fingernail polish is already beginning to chip. Guanheng watches his fingers move, makes note of the red lines that stay on his skin even after his hand has moved away. Dejun clears his throat and Guanheng is brought back again.

“Yes, sure.” He hastily scribbles his name and number on a napkin and shoves it into Dejun’s hand with an awkward cough. “Uh, I don’t have, like, my own phone, so that’s my home phone. My mom or my sister might answer, sorry.”

Dejun smiles and slips the napkin into the pocket of his jeans. “Fine by me. You seem to be in a rush to get home. I’ll call you later.”

Guanheng gives a tight nod and turns on his heel, walking to the exit as quickly as he can without seeming uncool. When he pushes out of the building, Yangyang is leaning against the wall eating a hotdog.

“Shit, dude, you scared me,” Guanheng pants, clutching his chest. “I thought you went home."

Yangyang shakes his head. “I needed a hotdog, but I wasn’t gonna abandon you like that completely.” He tosses his garbage into a can as they begin to walk back to the train and smiles at him over his shoulder. “So, did you kick his ass and come out reigning champion of Pac-Man? More importantly, did you make out with him?”

“Don’t be a creep. No, I did not make out with him. I’m still not gay or bisexual or whatever.” He sighs. “And I didn’t beat him. He actually kicked _my_ ass by a couple thousand points in like, less than five minutes.”

“Woah, what?” Yangyang’s eyes go wide. “How did he do that? It takes you ten minutes minimum to get to fifty thousand.”

“You don’t have to remind me,” he grumbles. “What am I supposed to do now that I’m not the best Pac-Man player there?”

“Maybe you could finally try the roller rink,” Yangyang suggests. “Maria’s been dying for you to try that out. Maybe you’ll have a natural talent for it.”

“Oh, right. I’m actually going skating with him tomorrow, so we’ll see.”

“ _What?!_ ” People on the streets pause to look toward the two of them and Guanheng slaps a hand over Yangyang’s mouth, hissing at him to be quiet. He grumbles under his palm and gasps when he moves his hand away. “You can’t suffocate me for being excited, G! You’re going on a date with him and you didn’t think to tell me that first?”

“It’s not a date!” Guanheng insists. “He asked if it could be one but I got all weird and so he said we can just go as friends–”

“I hate you so fucking much right now, oh my god,” Yangyang groans loudly, tilting his head toward the sky. “Go home without me, I can’t be around you anymore.”

“Wait, are you serious?”

“Yes, I’ll walk home.”

\---

It takes so long for Dejun to call that Guanheng has forgotten all about it by the time he does. The phone on his bedside table rings obnoxiously and he ignores it, lazily flipping through _Weapon X_ as he waits for someone to answer. It finally goes quiet and Guanheng flips onto his stomach, playing with the corner of a page. He groans when he hears Crystal call his name.

She opens the door before he can move. “Did your Pac-Man rival really just call our phone and ask for you, or am I dreaming?”

Guanheng’s eyes widen and he throws the comic to the edge of his bed, standing. “Give me the phone.”

Crystal smiles. “No. You have a phone right next to your bed. Use that.” Her smile fades. “But seriously, what’s going on? Yesterday, you were talking about, like, murdering him or something.”

“Crystal, _get out_.” Guanheng shoves her by the shoulders and slams the door. He falls back on his bed and picks up the phone. He covers the microphone and yells, “And don’t eavesdrop!”

_“Hey, stranger.”_ Dejun’s voice comes through the speaker smoothly when Guanheng finally presses the phone to his ear. _“Was that your sister I just talked to?”_

“Hey, yeah, sorry,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “She can be really annoying sometimes.”

Dejun laughs. _“I must be special or something. She says you’ve only given your number to Yangyang.”_

Guanheng feels himself go pink. “Did she say that? She’s definitely lying.”

_“It seems everyone is a liar, according to you.”_

“They are.” He sighs and rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “So, you’re going to make me go roller skating with you tomorrow, huh?”

_“I am. Do you work tomorrow?”_

Guanheng shakes his head, then remembers Dejun can’t see him. “No, I don’t. I’m free all day.”

_“Perfect!”_ He can hear the smile on his face when he speaks. “ _You know Welles Park, right? It’s just a couple blocks from Western. I live right by it, so I can meet you at the station at like twelve?”_

“That works for me,” Guanheng hums, picking at a loose thread in his blanket. “Should I bring anything?”

_“Just money for skates and an ICEE.”_

He laughs. “Right, right. I still owe you one of those. Not entirely sure why, but.”

_“I think I just deserve it.”_

Guanheng feels himself smile. He moves onto his side and sandwiches his free hand between his legs. “I think you deserve it, too.”

\---

Guanheng is in a terrible mood by the time his train arrives at Western. Before he’d even been able to get himself fully awake, Crystal was bombarding him with questions about the mystery man named Jun that Guanheng had happened to give his number to. When he had one foot out the door, his mood was further soured at the sight of his sister making kissy faces in his direction. If their mother hadn’t been sitting on the couch beside Crystal, he would have given her the finger. 

When he stops at the convenience store at Kimball to get himself a Redbull, the person working is his least favourite: an old, wobbly Arabic man who speaks to him in hardly understandable English and refuses to give Guanheng the thing he wants. He gets on the train with a package of Sour Punch straws instead of a Redbull. His train ride is peaceful right up to the few seconds after he steps onto the platform at Western. In their rush to catch the train, someone charges him and spills scalding coffee all over his favourite Oasis t-shirt and his white Chuck Taylor’s. They brush past him with an apology and slip through the closing doors just in time, leaving Guanheng burning and dripping to clean up the mess. 

So, when Dejun spots him outside of the station and notices the stained clothes and deep scowl on Guanheng’s face, his own face falls. He doesn’t say it, but Guanheng thinks he looks cool, sucking on a lollipop and rolling his skateboard under his foot.

“Hey, you look like you’re having a good day.”

“Do you like sour straws?” Guanheng tosses the candy at him without waiting for an answer and unsticks his shirt from his chest. “Today sucks and it’s just started.”

“Thanks…” Dejun chews through the rest of his lollipop before he rips open the package and sticks a straw in his mouth. “What happened to you?”

“I wanted a Redbull and got candy instead, for starters. Then some jerkwad spilled his coffee all over me and did nothing about it.” Guanheng looks down his shirt. His skin is pink and still burning. 

“Wait, hold my candy.” Dejun passes the package back and pulls his sweatshirt over his head. “Here. Take off the shirt and just wear this. That way you won’t go around looking like a dope.”

“Dude, it’s like, ninety degrees outside right now,” Guanheng whines, but takes the sweatshirt anyway. They duck into an alley and he changes behind a dumpster while Dejun keeps an eye out. “Thanks, I guess.”

“No problem. We can’t have the day ruined so quickly.” Guanheng moves from behind the dumpster and stands beside Dejun, tucking his shirt into his pocket. A group of cop cars drive by with their lights flashing and they watch with wide eyes. “Damn, what do you think’s going on?”

Guanheng shrugs. “I don’t know, but it looks like they’re heading in the direction of the arcade. Maybe we’ll be able to see something when we get there.”

They leave the alley and begin down the sidewalk quietly. Guanheng kicks a rock every few feet, keeping track of how long he can keep one with him. Dejun watches in amused silence and sucks on a sour straw. As they get closer to the arcade, the flashing of police lights becomes brighter, and the commotion louder.

“Wait, what the fuck?”

The cars are all parked in the middle of the street, just outside of the arcade. Guanheng picks up his pace to get a better look at the scene. Maria is standing under the awning, yelling while two cops pull her arms behind her back. Antonio is nowhere to be found. Guanheng begins running.

“Maria!” He calls out. She turns her head toward his voice and her face crumbles and she begins to cry. “Maria, what’s going on?”

“Excuse me, son,” an officer interjects, holding his arm out to stop Guanheng. “We can’t have you anywhere near the scene. We’re trying to keep it controlled over here."

“Maria, what the hell is going on?” He looks up at the cop blocking him. “Dude, what the fuck is happening? Where’s Tony?”

“Guanheng,” Dejun’s voice is quiet and Guanheng feels a tug on his sleeve. “Maybe we should leave…”

“No!” He shakes his arm free. “I need to know what’s happening. Where is Tony?”

The cop heaves a sigh and pushes him back gently. “He’s being taken to his father’s house now.” Guanheng’s muscles lock up. “Maria has been using the arcade as a drug front for the past eight years, according to the father.”

Guanheng shakes his head, just barely. “No, that’s not possible… Maria?” She keeps her head down as the two officers lead her to a car. “Maria, tell me that’s not fucking true!”

She lets herself be guided into the car and looks at Guanheng miserably through the window. He feels his eyes begin to burn with oncoming tears. Fingers wrap around his pinky and Guanheng looks at Dejun with wide eyes, stumbling away from the cop.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

Guanheng shakes his head, looks back at the cop. “Can you tell me where Tony’s dad lives, at least?”

The man shakes his head. “I’m sorry, kid. No matter how much you care about that boy, you aren’t family. I can’t share that kind of information with you.”

“Please,” Guanheng says, his voice cracking. He can feel his throat begin to tighten. “Please, sir, I need to see him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Guanheng,” Dejun says again, tightening his grip on his finger and pulling him away from the scene. The car with Maria pulls out and away. “Let me take you home.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“Well, where do you want to go, then? I’m sorry, but finding where Tony is isn’t possible.”

The tears return, this time spilling down Guanheng’s cheeks and dripping off his chin. He takes a shuddering breath and hides his face in his hoodie as Dejun leads him back toward the station. People stop to look at them as they pass by, whispering amongst themselves and Guanheng hates it; he hates that it’s unacceptable for him to cry when someone he’d trusted for so long had kept such a secret from him. He hates that he probably looks weak, because he already feels _so damn weak._ Dejun looks at him over his shoulder and he feels even more embarrassed. He tugs his hand away and coughs.

“I’m, uh, sorry about that,” he begins, wiping his eyes. “You don’t have to take me home, we can still do something, if you want.”

“Guanheng, what we just saw was really fucked up.” Dejun frowns. “I’m not going to force you to anything just because you said you would last night.”

He shakes his head. “I think it would be best to do something, anyway. Come on, I’ll buy you an ICEE from the theatre.”

“Don’t we need to see a movie in order to get snacks?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Dejun must be afraid to refuse Guanheng, because he stays silent and follows him across the street and into The Davis. Heather is standing behind the concessions counter and quirks her eyebrow as she watches the two of them walk right past the ticket booth.

“Hey Heather. Medium Cherry Cola ICEE, please,” Guanheng says, pulling his wallet.

“You doing okay, G?” Heather asks as she opens the register. “You look like you’ve just witnessed a murder or something.”

Dejun flinches beside him and Guanheng taps his fingers against the glass. “Please just get me the ICEE.”

“Geez, alright.”

She turns her back to prepare the drink and Dejun pulls Guanheng away from the counter. “Are you sure you’re good to do something? I swear to god, I’ll take you home right now if you even hesitate.”

He doesn’t. “I’m being serious. I’d just have to tell my family about it and then I’d be stuck in a house with a bunch of mopey people. Just tell me where we’re going and what we’re going to do and I’ll be good to go.”

Dejun hums. “Alright. Do you know how to skate? There’s a place near my house a bunch of stoners like to hang around and show off.”

“I tried skating once and broke my elbow. So, no.”

“Looks like I’m teaching you how to skate,” Dejun giggles. “Don’t worry, I’ll hold your hand the whole time.”

Guanheng doesn’t say anything, instead stepping forward to take the ICEE from Heather and guide Dejun back outside into the heat. They walk north quietly for a while, only breaking their silence when Dejun asks Guanheng to pocket the candy so he can hold his drink with both hands. When they arrive at the park, there is a group of boys, all around their age, sitting in a circle and passing a joint around. One of them catches sight of the two of them and brightens immediately, jumping up.

“It’s Jun!” He cries, running forward and hugging around Dejun’s neck. “I haven’t seen you in a while man, what’s up? Who’s this?”

“Guanheng, this is Yuta. Yuta, Guanheng.” Guanheng holds a hand out for the boy to shake, but he gets pulled into his own hug instead. He gives Dejun a panicked look over Yuta’s shoulder.

“So nice to meet you man,” Yuta says, beaming. “Mark, Johnny! Don’t be dicks and come say hello to our new friend.”

The other two stand up and walk over, smiling at Guanheng. The shorter of the two passes the joint to Yuta, who takes a long drag and blows the smoke in the boy’s face. He giggles uncontrollably, doubling over and stomping at the ground.

“Hey there. I’m Johnny.” The tall one offers Guanheng his hand to shake. “That’s Mark giggling like a girl.”

“Dude, don’t say that!” Mark smacks at Johnny’s arm, still laughing. “What’s up bro? What’d you say your name was again?”

“Uh, Guanheng.”

“Dejun! Look at this trick I learned a couple days ago!” Yuta passes the joint off and kicks up his board to shuffle away. Dejun takes the joint from Johnny and takes his own hit, offering it to Guanheng.

“I’m good, thanks.” They turn their attention back to Yuta, who kicks off and circles around them before pushing himself ahead and doing some trick that even Guanheng’s sober eyes can’t catch. Johnny and Mark yell and tackle Yuta to the ground. “What was that?”

“It’s something called a three-sixty inward heelflip,” Dejun says. “That was sick, Yuta. I’ve been trying to get that one for ages.”

Yuta grins at them from his spot under Mark and Johnny and shoots him a thumbs up. Dejun sends one back and looks up at Guanheng as he takes a sip from his drink.

“Wanna learn how to skate?”

\---

  
  


“Dude, did you see that? He almost just fucking died!”

Guanheng rolls onto his back and squints up at the sky, his chest heaving. The palms of his hands are stinging to the point where they burn and he lifts one hand up to blow on the skin. Dejun appears above him, a small smile on his face. 

“I thought you weren’t going to let go of my hand, asshole.”

“Sorry,” Dejun laughs and pulls Guanheng up. “Are you alright? That was a sick fall.” He brings Guanheng’s hands close to his face, inspecting the damage.

“It’s fine.” Guanheng can feel his cheeks beginning to burn. “Maybe I should stop now, though.”

Dejun hums and looks up from his hands. His eyes are hooded and bloodshot, and the smile on his face is lazy, almost tired. Guanheng thinks he looks really cool.

“Alright, let’s sit you down.”

Dejun kicks his board up and leads Guanheng to a bench on the edge of the concrete area. They sit with their shoulders and thighs pressed together, despite the length of the bench, and watch the other three continue to douche around. Dejun continues to sip on his ICEE. It’s a wonder it hasn’t melted yet.

“They’re cool,” Guanheng starts. “How long have you been friends?”

Dejun shakes his head. “I don’t know if I’d say I’m friends with them,” he says. “They’ve all known each other for a while, though. Johnny has a girlfriend that sometimes tags along. I’m pretty sure Mark and Yuta fuck from time to time. But I just smoke and skate with them whenever we all happen to be here at the same time.”

“Oh, I definitely would have thought…”

“They’re all quite social,” Dejun laughs as he swirls his straw in his cup. “I don’t really like meeting new people, so I probably wouldn’t hang with them if they hadn’t approached me first.”

“But you approached me first.”

“I can assure you I did not. I seem to recall your friend getting my attention by calling me Nail Polish.”

“Whatever,” Guanheng rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. You proposed we go and do something together.”

“That’s because I thought you were hot, Guanheng.”

If he’d been eating something, Guanheng most certainly would have choked and died. He looks at Dejun with wide eyes, his cheeks flaming. Dejun stares ahead cooly, probably too high to think about what he’s said. He takes a drink from his ICEE.

“Have you ever even tried this flavour? I don’t get how you don’t like it.”

Guanheng clears his throat. “I haven’t tried it before, no. But Coke is already gross, why would someone think it was a good idea to add cherry and freeze it?”

Dejun throws his head back and laughs. “Come on, you’ve gotta at least try it before you start talking shit. Here.”

Guanheng looks between the drink and Dejun, his eyebrows drawn together. “Fine.” He snatches the drink from his hand. “I’ll try it, but I can already tell you that I will not enjoy it.”

Dejun hums like he doesn’t believe him and watches as he takes a small, tentative sip. His face immediately contorts and he swallows it, smacking his lips in distaste. “That’s awful, oh my god. It tastes like acid, but frozen.”

“You’re overreacting so much right now. Are you the baby of your family?”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“It has to do with _everything,_ Guanheng.”

Dejun takes the cup back and slurps at the drink leisurely. Mark, Yuta, and Johnny all shout goodbyes as they exit the park and the two wave back. The wind blows and Guanheng notices goosebumps rise on Dejun’s arms.

“Do you want your sweatshirt back?”

“No, it’s fine.” Dejun takes a deep breath. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

Guanheng’s anxiety spikes. “Sure.”

“Why were you so attached to that lady and her kid at the arcade?” Dejun looks down and begins picking at his nail polish, trapping the cup between his legs. “I remember yesterday, you took care of him like he was your own kid or something, and then the way you talked to his mom…”

“I don’t actually know,” Guanheng begins, looking down at his own hands. “I mean, I’ve known Maria for a really long time. She felt kind of like an aunt, I guess? And I’ve always liked kids, so when she had him, I remember being really excited. It was like getting a little brother. Or cousin, that would make more sense.”

“You really love him, huh?”

“Yeah, I do.” He sighs. “Sorry, I don’t really want to talk about them right now.”

“Shit, no, yeah. Sorry I brought it up.” Dejun waves his hands in dismissal. “It definitely wasn’t my place.”

Guanheng watches him sit back and tilt his head toward the sky out of the corner of his eye. He stretches his arms above his head and, underneath his watch, he notices inking on his skin.

“Is that a tattoo?”

“Oh! yeah, it is.” Dejun smiles and drops his hands back in his lap. He unclasps the watch and turns his wrist toward Guanheng. It’s simple, a fish swimming beneath cartoonish waves on his wrist below his thumb. It isn’t very large, and looks almost like a child’s drawing. Guanheng can’t help but run a finger over it gently.

“What’s its story?”

“A friend of mine drew it when we were younger.” Guanheng tears his gaze from his wrist to look at his face. “He drew it in my notebook one morning before science class, our freshman year. He didn’t believe me when I told him I was going to get it tattooed, because he thought it was too ugly. He cried when I showed it to him.”

Guanheng laughs breathily, finally pulling his fingers away from his skin. “He must be a really great friend.”

“Yeah,” Dejun smiles faintly. “He was pretty great.”

Guanheng doesn’t want to ask any questions, so he leans back on the bench and cups his chin in his hand. “Are you going to get any more? Or do you have any more?”

“I don’t have any others, no, but I really want to get this one…”

Guanheng tries to keep listening, he really does. He can see Dejun’s lips moving and see his fingers point to various spots on his body, but he’s too busy thinking about how nice his fingers look donned in silver rings and painted at the tips. He watches the chain around his neck catch in the light and it makes him squint. The single earring in his left ear dangles and knocks against his jaw. Guanheng thinks Dejun is so cool.

He isn’t sure when Dejun stops talking and looks at him. He isn’t sure what he says to him, his eyebrows drawn in confusion and the slightest bit of concern. But he _is_ sure that when he leans forward to kiss him, it’s because he couldn’t possibly think of doing anything else. He’s sure that Dejun’s lips are soft and chapped all at once, and the breath puffing against his top lip is hot. And more than anything else, he’s sure that when Dejun licks his way into his mouth, Guanheng finds the taste of Cherry Cola much more enjoyable when it’s on Dejun’s tongue. 

\---

“You _what_?!” 

Guanheng drops his head onto the table and groans. “I haven’t talked to him in like, two weeks.”

“Oh my fucking god, you might just be the stupidest son of a bitch on this planet,” Yangyang cries. “You made out with Dejun at a park and then left, and _then_ avoided any contact with him for two weeks?”

“Can you stop repeating it, please?” Guanheng winces, lifting his head back up and glaring at Yangyang. “I already feel like an asshole.”

“Actually, I don’t think you feel like enough of an asshole.” He throws a fry and it hits Guanheng in the nose. “What have you even done in the time you’ve been ignoring him? Jacking off?”

Guanheng throws the fry back at him. “No, dick.” He turns his gaze out the window. “I’ve been trying to find where Tony’s dad is.”

“Oh.” Yangyang looks down at the puddle of ketchup on his tray. “Anything?”

Guanheng shakes his head. “He did call me, I think last week. He sounded really sad, and his dad wouldn’t let him tell me where he was.” He raps his knuckles against the table until they hurt. “What a fucking douchebag.”

“Do you really think he’s less safe with his dad than he was with his mom? Maria was the one running a drug ring at the arcade.”

“It’s not about that though,” Guanheng says. “It’s about me not getting to see him at all. It’s not like I was in on it! I was probably just as surprised as Tony must have been.” 

“I’m sure he’s just taking precautions,” Yangyang begins, soaking a fry in ketchup. “He can’t keep him hidden forever.”

“Yes, I know that.”

Yangyang looks at him from across the table, his tongue in his cheek. Guanheng knows he wants to say something. About his attitude, his tone. But he sticks the fry in his mouth and changes the subject instead. “So, when’re you gonna call Dejun?”

“Dunno. Maybe never.”

Another fry is catapulted at his face. “You idiot! You’re totally leading him on right now!”

“I know, okay?” He huffs, eating the fry. “But do you know how freaky that is? To go hang out with someone, sure it’s only gonna be a friendly fun time, only to make out with them on a bench in a public park? I thought I was straight!”

“Yeah, I know straight is the default in this day and age, but I genuinely don’t understand how you thought that. Name one girl you ever found attractive enough to date–” Guanheng opens his mouth to answer. “–Ah! That isn’t that chick from the video game, creep.”

Guanheng slumps in his seat as he thinks. He’d thought many girls were pretty, beautiful, even. Katy Sinclair from his world history class his sophomore year had these big brown eyes and a cute, dimpled smile, but he never wanted to kiss her because her lip gloss made her lips stick together. Maryanne West had the best body of any teenage girl he’d ever seen, but he never thought about sleeping with her because he’d seen too much of her at a gymnastics meet and he was afraid to see her naked.

“I don’t know.”

Yangyang sighs. “Look, it’s not like you need a label or anything. You’ve never really shown an interest in anyone before Dejun came along. All that really matters is that he kissed you back and now you’re blue-balling him.”

“I’m not–” Guanheng presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and growls. “Yangyang, I’m going to kill you.”

“You’re only allowed to kill me if you promise to fucking _call him_ after.” He points a threatening finger at Guanheng’s chest, his eyes narrowing. “I’m serious, dude. No one likes being led on like that.”

“Okay, I get it.” Guanheng crumples up his burger paper and tosses it toward the garbage. It bounces off the rim of the can and lands on the floor. An employee gives him a dirty look and he’s quick to pick it up. “Are you coming home with me?”

“No,” Yangyang mumbles and ducks his head. “I’m meeting Charlie in like, twenty.”

Guanheng smacks him upside the head. “You’re kooky, man. I’ll see you around.”

“Fucking call him, alright?” Guanheng waves his hand dismissively as he leaves the restaurant. 

He spends his walk home regretting wasting his money on shitty fast food and trying to figure out what he could possibly say to Dejun to get him to not hate him. He wonders if he’ll even answer the phone if he calls. 

“Hey, sorry we made out and then I ignored you for seventeen days,” he says to himself, testing the apology on his tongue. It’s not like Guanheng has counted how long it’s been, he just happens to know today’s date and the date he kissed him. It’s simple math.

He shakes his head as he crosses the street and ducks into the Q Stop to grab a Redbull. As he’s pulling his drink from the cooler, he catches sight of the line of Cherry Coke in the fridge next to him. He shivers and slams the door hard enough to receive a look from the man behind the counter. He smiles awkwardly and pays, saluting him as he takes his change and leaves. 

He considers stopping at Markello’s and buying something for himself, but it feels like Yangyang is breathing down his neck from the McDonald’s half a mile down Lawrence so he trudges on, kicking a piece of asphalt down the stretch of alley to his apartment. Crystal is smoking at the table out back when he arrives and she looks at him cryptically over the smoke.

“Hey there, little brother,” she says, tapping the ash off of her cigarette. “What’s going on with you? You’re looking miserable.”

“None of your business,” he bites, but sits down across from her anyway. “I made out with someone and then ignored them for a long time.”

“Is it that Jun guy?” Guanheng chokes on his drink and Crystal laughs. “Knew it.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Well, _I_ do, because I seem to recall overhearing you plan a little date with him like, three weeks ago.”

“It was only seventeen days.” Crystal cocks an eyebrow. “Whatever.”

“So, are you gonna call him or something?” She squashes the butt of her cigarette on the heel of her boot and tosses it into an empty flower pot. “It’s kind of douchey to do something like that to someone, you know.”

“Please, I already heard this from Yangyang,” he grumbles, raking his fingers through his hair. “I’m going to get ahold of him as soon as we get inside.” Crystal smiles devilishly. “If you listen in on me, I will fucking kill you.”

“I’m not afraid to die.”

“Then I’ll destroy your creepy Michael Jackson shrine.”

Crystal huffs and stands from her seat. “Jesus, fine. I don’t want to hear you dirty talk a dude, anyway.”

They begin up the stairs and Guanheng reaches out to grab her wrist. She looks at him over her shoulder, humming. “Please don’t tell mom, okay?” Crystal turns around to face him fully. “I still don’t really know what’s going on and I’m kind of freaked out right now. I don’t want to think about how she could react.”

“Stupid.” She ruffles his hair and pushes on his face. “Why would I tell mom about your shit? I don’t care enough to waste my energy.”

Guanheng ducks his head. “Thanks.”

Crystal doesn’t say anything else, turning and continuing up the stairs, whistling something vaguely familiar. When they get inside, Guanheng kisses his mother’s temple and she looks up from her veggies to smile up at him. 

“Hello, baby. How was Yangyang today?”

“He was good,” he says, resting his chin on her shoulder and watching the movement of the knife in her hand. “I need to make a phone call and I’m not sure how long I’ll be, okay?”

“Alright my dear, I’ll make a plate for you if you’re still busy.”

“Thanks, Mama.”

Guanheng turns into his room, not without giving Crystal a threatening look. She grins and gives him a thumbs up, sitting at the table and opening a magazine. He closes his door behind him and presses against it, knocking his head gently against the wood and closing his eyes. He looks at the phone sitting on his bedside table and can feel his heart beginning to race already. He drags himself over to his bed and lies down, pulling the phone from the receiver and placing it on his chest. He stays still for a moment, rehearsing what he’s going to say when Dejun picks up.

Slowly, he punches in the numbers and presses the phone to his ear, counting slowly as it rings. 

_“Hello?”_

Guanheng startles. It isn’t Dejun’s voice. He sits up, wide eyes staring ahead as he attempts to form a coherent sentence.

“U-um, hi, sorry. My name is Guanheng. Is Dejun there?”

_“He left for the store about ten minutes ago. He should be home shortly. Do you want me to pass a message along?”_

Guanheng sags. “No, it’s alright. If you could just ask him to give me a call when–”

_“Guanheng?”_

He freezes. Every single word he’d planned on saying fizzles from his mind, leaving his mouth cottony and his tongue a ten-pound weight. He wonders what’s going on in Dejun’s head—if he’s angry and hurt and wondering why he’s only calling now.

_“Are you there?”_

“Yes!” He snaps out of his thoughts. “Sorry, yes. I’m here,” he breathes.

_“I didn’t think I was ever going to hear from you again,”_ Dejun laughs. _“I thought I’d scared you off or something.”_

“Why would you scare me off when I was the one who kissed you?” He feels himself go pink and shakes his head. “Whatever, that’s not why I called you. I wanted to apologise.”

_“Oh.”_

“Not that kind of apology!” Guanheng wants to bury himself alive. “I mean, I’m sorry for running off on you and not calling you for a while.”

_“So you’re not sorry for kissing me?”_

He swallows thickly. He’s lost feeling everywhere but the backs of his ears. “No, I don’t think so.” He waits for Dejun to say something, but he doesn’t. “Look, I know I made it seem like I wasn’t interested in you at all, but I was just kinda freaked the fuck out because I _was_ interested. No one has drawn me in me the way you did.”

_“Do you have a crush on me, Guanheng?”_

“I don’t know,” he wails. “I’ve kissed a girl like, once in my entire life because she made me slow dance with her in the eighth grade. But I never wanted to kiss her, or anyone, for that matter. Then that night…”

A laugh echoes through the speaker and makes Guanheng forget what he was saying. _“I think I know what you mean. It’s okay. You don’t have to know anything right now.”_

“But I _know_ I wanted to kiss you. I’ve thought about it every day since then.”

It’s silent on the other line and it begins to scare Guanheng. Is that not what he wanted to hear? Has he just made him horribly uncomfortable? Oh fuck, he’s never going to get to talk to him again. 

_“Are you busy on Sunday?”_

Oh. Guanheng looks at the calendar nailed into his door. “No, I don’t work that day. Why?”

_“It’s pride. There’s going to be a huge parade downtown, and I was wondering if you’d want to come with me.”_

“Yes.” He says it before he can even think. “Yes, I’d love to.”

Dejun excitedly gives him details and a dress code that Guanheng most certainly cannot follow before he ends the call with a soft, _“I’m really excited to see you again.”_ He hangs up before Guanheng can say he’s excited to see him too.

He quickly dials Yangyang’s number, praying to god that he thought to bring his mobile with him. He picks up on the third ring.

_“G? Why are you calling me? Did you bitch out or did he spit on you through the phone?”_

“Neither.” Guanheng can’t stop himself from laughing. He’s relieved. “Do you and Charlie want to go to a parade this weekend?”

\---

Guanheng has never seen so much colour in one space before.

The entire city is alive with people wearing flags on their backs and glitter on their faces. Two women walk past him with nothing but stickers covering their nipples and the sight makes him go red and look away and that in turn makes Yangyang laugh at him. Some men are in rainbow spandex and heels, others are dangerously close to being naked.

But Guanheng thinks Dejun looks cool. He’s still wearing mostly black, but his shirt looks almost like it’s made of fishnet tights, with holes large enough to read the word _PROUD_ painted on his chest. Guanheng has never seen a guy wear makeup before today, but Dejun is wearing heavy eyeliner and has drawn hearts in the corners of his eyes in some sort of green marker. His earrings all seem to match, with rainbow hearts or stars pressed into his skin. His jeans are so skinny they look like they’re suctioned to him and the holes in his thighs show perfectly smooth legs. His combat boots make him an inch taller than Guanheng, and it’s slightly unsettling. But he smiles over at him and waves his own flag in the street and Guanheng realises that he’s never thought Dejun looked cool. He only ever thought he was beautiful.

Charlie stands against the barrier waving a white cloth with an unrecognisable symbol and Yangyang stands behind them with his arms wrapped around their waist. He smiles against their neck and kisses their shoulder and Guanheng feels a sort of tug in his chest as he watches it. While Charlie doesn’t offer Yangyang any reaction, they press their back against his chest with a little more force and continue to shout into the crowd. 

Dejun tugs on his sleeve to get his attention and presses his lips to his ear. “How are you?”

Guanheng shrugs, because he truly doesn’t know. He doesn’t hate it, not in the slightest, but there’s so much noise and so many bodies rubbing together that he can’t help but feel a little bit claustrophobic. Dejun pulls him a little farther from the crowd and between two buildings just off of Adams. 

“It was a little too much for me too, the first time around,” Dejun says, keeping his hand on Guanheng’s arm. “I don’t think it was until I came for the third time that it stopped freaking me out so much.”

“How long have you been coming to these?”

“Well, this is going to sound kind of crazy, but that guy you talked to on the phone on Monday?” Guanheng nods. “That was my dad. He kind of introduced me to everything because… he’s a drag queen.”

Guanheng’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull. “Shit, for real?” Dejun bites his lip and nods. “Damn, that’s… actually really cool.”

Dejun beams up at him. “Really? I had kind of an extreme reaction when I first found out about it, and I’ve always been afraid to tell other people.”

“No, I’ve always had mad respect for people that could duct tape their dicks back.”

“That’s not how it works, but I appreciate the effort.”

Guanheng laughs and pulls Dejun’s hand from his arm, curling their fingers together. Dejun isn’t looking at him but Guanheng can still see the way his ears go pink at the gesture.

“Hey,” he begins and Dejun meets his eyes. “Thanks for inviting me to this. I know it doesn’t seem like I’m enjoying myself, but I really am. I never knew there were so many people in Chicago who were like us.”

“We’re all over the world, Guanheng. It’s not just one city.” He steps forward and leans his head into Guanheng’s chest. “But I’m glad you came with me. And I’m glad you called me.”

“Me, too.”

“Do you think you’ve had any revelations since being here?”

“I think I’ve had a couple,” Guanheng says, pushing Dejun away gently. His fingers bounce on his shoulders nervously. “I don’t know what I am or who I am, really, but I do think I really like you.” He watches Dejun’s face colour. “I think you’re funny and nice and beautiful, even though you’re still the asshole who’s better at Pac-Man than me.”

Dejun throws his head back and laughs. The choker around his neck stretches against his Adam’s apple and Guanheng can’t help but run his fingers over it gently. It makes Dejun freeze, his eyes straining to look at him from his position. Slowly, Guanheng’s hand travels up his neck and cups his jaw, sliding back so his fingers and grab at the little tufts of hair at the base of Dejun’s neck. And slowly, Dejun brings his head back up, watching Guanheng marvel. 

“Do you want to kiss me?” He asks, his own hand coming up to lay over Guanheng’s.

“Probably,” he breathes. “Yeah, I do.”

Guanheng really likes kissing Dejun. He may have only done it once before, but the groan that rumbles in his throat at the gentle touch of their lips has Guanheng convinced that he’ll never enjoy kissing someone as much as he enjoys kissing Dejun. His fingers tighten in Dejun’s hair and it forces him forward until their chests are pressed together and Guanheng can’t tell whose heart it is that’s beating so hard. Dejun chases his lips when he pulls back to breathe and Guanheng pants while Dejun’s tongue explores his open mouth, dragging across his gums. His hands fall and squeeze at his waist, forcing them apart and Guangheng presses their foreheads together while their minds clear.

“Yangyang is going to start wondering where we are.”

“Let him think we’re fucking, then.” Dejun’s hands creep up Guanheng’s chest and he shivers. “It’s none of his business, anyway.”

“Let’s not let him think we’re fucking in public, actually.” He pulls Dejun’s hands off his chest and brings them to his lips, kissing at his knuckles. “We promised them we would get lunch, remember?”

Dejun sighs. “Yeah, I know we did. Fine, let’s go back.”

Guanheng leans forward and kisses him one more time. It’s short and sweet, quick enough that it leaves Dejun looking dazed when Guanheng steps back with a smile.

“Alright, _now_ we can go back.”

The crowd has begun to thin out by the time they return to the main street. It’s still horribly loud and Guanheng can feel the bass of the music in his chest, but there are less people to push past as they yell into their ears, and they find Yangyang and Charlie fairly easily. 

“Hey, you two,” Yangyang greets, smiling. “Where’d you run off to?”

“We fucked between those two buildings over there,” Xiaojun speaks before Guanheng even has the chance to open his mouth and it makes him want to sink into the sidewalk. Yangyang gives him a concerned look.

“You didn’t actually, right?”

“Jesus, no, we did not fuck between two buildings in the middle of a parade.” Guanheng glares at Dejun, slapping his hand away and crossing his arms. “I’m angry at you right now.”

Dejun makes a kissy face and Charlie laughs as they tie their flag around their neck. “There’s a Thai restaurant like, two blocks that way,” they say, pointing behind Yangyang. “Wanna go there?”

There’s a unanimous agreement and they begin heading west. Dejun and Charlie walk a few feet ahead, leaving Guanheng and Yangyang alone. It’s quiet for a moment before Yangyang nudges him with his shoulder, smiling.

“So, what do you think of Charlie?”

“They’re really nice,” Guanheng begins. “I thought it’d be a little harder to call them the right thing, but it wasn’t actually super difficult. You guys look good together.”

Yangyang’s cheeks go pink and he rubs at the back of his head. “Yeah, I think they’re really great. I’m glad you like them.” He looks at Guanheng expectantly. “And what about Dejun? What’s going on with him?”

He shrugs. “I like him. I don’t really know anything other than that. He likes me too and he’s really good at kissing.”

“Gross, TMI, bro.”

“You’re the one who asked,” Guanheng laughs. “But I don’t know. I still haven’t told my mom. She doesn’t even know I’m here. She thinks it’s funny dress-up day at work.”

“Hey man, you don’t have to tell her if you don’t want to.” Yangyang claps him on the back. “Like, obviously tell her if you end up getting married to the guy and you want her at the wedding, but it’s not really her business.”

“Yeah… I don’t know, I’ve always told her everything, it makes me feel kind of like a dick to hide the fact that I kiss guys.”

“You kiss _a_ guy. A single boy.” Guanheng gives him a look and Yangyang lifts his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, G. It’s not like she’s gonna flip shit at you, right?”

“I don’t actually know,” he says, gnawing on his lip. Dejun and Charlie turn into the restaurant and Yangyang grabs onto Guanheng’s collar to stop him from following them inside. 

“I think your mom loves you too much to ever be angry at you,” he begins, eyes serious. “Everyone knows that. It’s why your siblings all bully you so much.”

Guanheng laughs, but he can feel his throat getting tighter each second the conversation continues. “Can we just go inside, please?” He squeaks.

Yangyang’s face falls just slightly, so briefly that Guanheng almost doesn’t notice it. “Yeah, dude. Let’s get some grub.”

Dejun shoots the two a questioning look as soon as he catches sight of them and Guanheng just shakes his head, taking the seat beside him. Dejun’s hand finds its place on his knee quickly, squeezing something that feels like comfort into the joint. Guanheng takes his hand and squeezes back.

“So, Guanheng,” Charlie begins, closing their menu. “Yangyang hasn’t told me much about you other than you being obsessed with an arcade game.”

“I’ve kind of lost interest in it, to be honest.”

“Oh? Why?”

“He’s embarrassed because his boyfriend kicked his ass at it in less than five minutes,” Yangyang blurts. If looks could kill.

“Can I ask about your flag, Charlie?” Guanheng changes the subject, squirming in his seat. “I’m sorry, I don’t recognise the symbol.”

“Oh!” Charlie brightens immediately and unties the flag from around their neck. Guanheng wishes he could take a picture of Yangyang as he leans his head into his hand and watches them. “This is the symbol someone created for people like me. The non-binary symbol!” They point at the X. “This was used in science a lot, when identifying things with no gender or unidentified gender.”

“That’s really interesting,” Dejun hums, leaning forward to take a closer look. “Why did you paint it on a sheet though? Is there not a flag for it already?”

“No,” Charlie huffs, bunching the flag up and stuffing it under the table. “There are only two official pride flags, and they’re both for dudes, which is fucking bullshit. No offense.”

Dejun laughs. “No, I get it. I thought there was a lesbian flag?”

“No, there’s a lesbian _symbol,_ some sort of axe. It used to be a religious thing, but the lesbians claimed it for whatever reason. At this rate, I don’t think I’ll ever get a pride flag.”

“Give it twenty years,” Yangyang says, kissing their temple. “I’m sure it’ll happen.”

“I don’t want to wait twenty years!”

They laugh and Guanheng leans back in his seat to look out the window. A crowd of people walk by, still carrying the parade and he can’t help but feel himself smile. A flag reading _We Are Your Children_ is carried by two people as they sing and something stirs in Guanheng’s stomach. Dejun leans his head on his shoulder when a waiter comes to take their order and he realises belatedly that he hadn’t even figured out what he wanted to eat. Dejun orders for him.

“I’m going to get a Cherry Coke,” he whispers in his ear. “Do you want one?”

“I’ll just have a water,” Guanheng smiles up at the waiter, who nods. He turns his head and presses his lips to Dejun’s ear. “I’m sure I’ll taste it on you later, anyway.”

Dejun goes pink and Yangyang scowls at them from across the table. “You guys sicken me. Can you not keep it in your pants for _one_ meal?”

“We’ve kept it in our pants all day, shut the fuck up.”

\---

Kissing Dejun is the most wonderful thing in the world, and Guanheng will never believe any different.

They’re sitting at the same bench that they had been twenty-four days ago. The sun is hidden behind the trees in the maturity of the evening, and Guanheng isn’t sure if it’s the breeze or Dejun’s hands up his shirt that makes him shiver. But despite their position and where their hands are on each other’s bodies, the kiss is sweet. Guanheng can taste Cherry Cola in Dejun’s mouth and he reaches up to curl his hands around the back of his neck, swiping his thumbs across his nape. Dejun pulls away with a sigh and hides his face in Guanheng’s shoulder, pressing a soft kiss into the bone.

Guanheng feels like he’s floating, like he’s high and lost all feeling of gravity. His hands slide down and his arms wrap around Dejun’s ribs, pressing him as close as he can. He can feel his heartbeat thump against his chest and he closes his eyes, savouring the feeling. Dejun’s nails rake ever so gently down his sides, just enough to make Guanheng twitch, but not enough to give away how ticklish he is. Lips find their way to his neck and Guanheng takes a deep breath as Denjun kisses the skin, like one would kiss the crown of a cat’s head. 

A group of people enter the park and Guanheng makes eye contact with one of them. He tenses as they get the attention of their friends but Dejun’s legs tighten around him, locking him into place. He sucks lightly on his neck and Guanheng looks away from the group, craning to offer Dejun more ground. 

“Will you kiss me again?” Dejun whispers. “In front of them?”

Guanheng doesn’t say anything. He chews on the inside of his cheek, contemplating, until Dejun moves away to look at him. Guanheng lets his eyes trail over his face, from the mussed hair, to the hearts smearing underneath his eyes, to the red lips that part in an unasked question. He doesn’t ask, because Guanheng leans forward to kiss him before he can say a word. Dejun breathes onto Guanheng’s top lip as he surrenders and pulls his hands from under his shirt to cup his face. Guanheng wishes he could keep his eyes open, because Dejun looks so perfect above him, but even with his eyes half closed, they’re still too heavy to keep open. When they finally pull away, Guanheng feels like he’s made of silly putty, forming himself into the bench and around Dejun’s body. His head falls back and he keeps his eyes closed as he tilts toward the sky. Dejun’s hands rub down his arms for a moment before he curls into him again, sighing into his neck.

“I really like you, Guanheng. Is that a silly thing to say?”

He feels a small smile tug at his lips. His eyes open and he watches a trio of birds fly above them and out of sight. The wind blows and he shivers, pulling Dejun closer as he listens to the air move through the leaves in the trees. The group of people have stopped looking in their direction but Guanheng can’t bring himself to care either way. He sits up, forcing Dejun to do the same. His finger hooks under the choker around Dejun’s neck and he pulls him forward, planting a kiss on his Adam’s apple. He can feel him swallow beneath his lips.

When he moves back, Dejun is blushing and refusing to meet his eyes. He squirms like he hasn’t been sitting on Guanheng’s lap for the better part of an hour, kissing his lips numb. It makes him laugh, a short exhale through his nose. Guanheng really thinks he looks so beautiful.

“I don’t think it’s silly at all.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank u guys for reading!! 
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/seolarss)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/seolarss)


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